posted
IB was having the most wonderful dream. He was with Cobie, Numf and Abin Quank in Shameless Hussies, and one of the girls was paying attention to him. They had been flirting shamelessly for the last half hour, and IB was running out of techniques to use, since Cobie, Numfie and AQ had only shared a portion of their flirting styles with him. They claimed the rest of their techniques were too... adult for a 16 year old. But IB was slowly making headway...
"So, cutie, is there anything else about you I should know?"
"Well, do you know that I'm a freak of nature?"
"In what way? Do you have, like, six toes or something?"
"Worse. I have 3 feet."
"Ooooh, I'd like to see the other foot."
"Well, then, follow me and I'll let you see then."
"Can I touch them?"
"Of course, that's what they're waiting for."
IB's grin was getting wider and wider. He would SO enjoy bragging to the others, who liked to rib him about what had happened with the Emerald Empress. He was so busy thinking of how he would bring the subject up at the next drinking session that he didn't see where he was going. He tripped over Cobie's drunken body and landed on the floor. Hard. His last thought was that he hoped that the cracking sound wasn't his spine.
posted
IB slowly opened his eyes to the sound of silence. He could see a white ceiling, with moving electric fans which he could barely make out in the darkness. He tried to move, and hit his head on something hard and wooden,
"Yeowch!"
As he opened his mouth, he inhaled large motes of some white powder. He coughed, but his coughing only dislodged more of the same powdery stuff. He tried to get out of there, and fell on a dirty, hard floor. He was coated with powder. He still felt... woozy, though. He decided to close his eyes again.
"Damn! I was just getting to the exciting part! And now I'm stuck here, in wherever this is. Cobie and the others must have dumped me here. Grife, serves me right for falling asleep in Shameless Hussies... Well, might as well find my way back. I still have a nice pickup line to try..."
He slowly stood up, and tried to dust himself off, but only succeeded in getting himself to cough more. He gave up, and then he let a tiny flame spring to life in his open palm. What he saw nearly caused him to collapse again.
He was back. Here, inside this place of horror, this place which he hoped he would never see again, not since he had found a new home at Legion World. This place which still gave him nightmares sometimes, which crushed him and tormented him and stifled him. The place where he had left all his old friends behind, hoping that they would find a way out like he did. The place which had destroyed a part of him long ago, a part which he was only beginning to rebuild on Legion World.
posted
Welcome to the jungle, we’ve got what it takes……
Allegedly.
Tied to a tree WZ was refusing to talk. He had been gagged by Numf, using one of his sleeves, and tied upside down to a tree using the strap from his AK47, but was still shaking his head. At least Numf had managed to gain himself a pair of sturdy boots. However, he couldn’t take his eyes off Rody, who was sitting on Wayne Husseys hand being stroked whilst eating a piece if Wensleydale that Wayne had taken from his rucksack. (I don’t know if it’s been mentioned before, but I thought it fairly obvious that he’d have a bag of some description if he’s going to be doing a lot of walking….I didn’t mention trousers either, but you have to kind of make certain assumptions considering the circumstances, you know?) Rody had never tasted such a delightfully subtle flavour, and it was rapidly making its way into his Top Ten list of cheeses.
Numf was trying the fairly straightforward approach of getting information from someone. “What’s the fucking problem? Why the dingly dangly bits are you lot chasing us with fucking guns and knives and shit like that?” he asked, quite succinctly he thought, whilst staring into WZs eyes from about 3 inches (75mm) away, gritting his teeth and shaking his fist in a way that suggests it’s about to come into contact with WZs nose. WZ shook his head once more, slowly. Fat and wheezy he may be, but that doesn’t mean that he gives up at the first sign of trouble. Numf threatened to kick him, but turned away instead, and pondered a bit. Wayne was sitting a short way off. He put Rody down and started practising the new song that he had been starting to learn. “Tra-la-la la-la-la-la” came his husky tones to the, admittedly in-tune, twanging of his acoustic. WZ started to shake, getting more violent as the practising continued. “Tra-la-la la-la-la-la”. WZ started thrashing wildly, foam spitting from behind the gag. With a snap the machine gun strap broke, and WZ fell to the ground still thrashing. Wayne stopped playing, picked himself off the ground and went over to give WZ some help. WZ started to calm down almost immediately. “Looks like some kind of Pavlovian attack,” suggested Wayne. Numf turned from his silent pondering, looked around for a few seconds and said “Where? I can’t see any meringue, let alone raspberries. But anyway, what are we doing about finding out who and what’s behind this? And why?” “Idiot. Have you never heard of Pavlovs Dog?” asked Wayne. “That was the little black and white one on the record label wasn’t it?” asked Numf showing once more his ignorance.
The rain had come again, as it so often does in rain forests.
Kaant didn’t appreciate the fact, being stuck as she was at the bottom a great fuckin’ pit. Complete with big pointy sticks, a vertical tank and several SGG kebabs. When she had regained consciousness and removed the corpse from her head – that corporal was lucky he was dead already – she had started to climb up the tank. And then the heavens had opened, making the metal far too slippery for vertical climbing. Instead she sat in a puddle of mud (insert pun of choice concerning PoM song of choice), thinking she’d pissed it all away. She £@€#in’ hated him. (Okay, that’s enough.) She had lost all control, and was out of her head. Her vision had gone all blurry. But she knew that she’d never change. (Look, I said enough already!) That Numf was sooooo gonna get his ass kicked. She was so angry that her reddened face was steaming slightly in the wetness of the downpour. And her anger was given vent on anything within (admittedly a very limited) range.
posted
At that very moment, and not thirty yards away from Numf and company: the air rippled and shimmered, and the cheerleader known as Homecoming Queen (real name: Amber) came crashing through a distortion in the space/time continuum.
HQ was wearing about as much Numf had been wearing just a few pages earlier.
It took her about half a second to realize this. And the fact that she was now suddenly in the middle of a jungle, probably hundreds of miles from the nearest mall. And anyone who might know or care about the latest teen fashions.
She screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
Registered: Jul 2003
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Eryk Davis Ester
Created from the Cosmic Legends of the Universe!
posted
Unbeknownst to her, Homecoming Queen's trip through the spacetime continuum had accidentally set her communicator to an open channel.
While her terrified screaming was picked up by EDE, Lardy, Cobalt Super-Ego, and Porcupine Pete at the top of page 31, they apparently decided to ignore it and go about their business.
From: Liberty City | Registered: Jul 2003
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posted
Not only did they ignore it, but they found it rather amusing -- assuming that she was in no real peril, and was probably just overreacting (again) to something minor (as she was wont to do).
In fact, they giggled!
Registered: Jul 2003
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Eryk Davis Ester
Created from the Cosmic Legends of the Universe!
posted
After giggling, Lardy and Cobalt Super-Ego continued being written about by IB above.
Meanwhile, EDE accepted the burrito that Porcupine Pete had offered him, and his story continues here!
From: Liberty City | Registered: Jul 2003
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posted
Deep in the Panamanian rain forest, Wayne Hussey was trying to explain his rather simple theory to Numf-El. In case anybody missed it, it runs like this – either the sound of the acoustic guitar or else the song that was being sung had set off a reaction in WZ. Quite a bad reaction at that.
Suddenly, they heard a stereo scream. Or, more accurately, two screams coming from diagonally opposite directions. Two female voices. Two damsels in distress. Numf sent Wayne & Rody to investigate the scream that was coming from down the trail away from the angry hordes, while he went to investigate the scream coming from the direction that they had disappearred. There was something very familiar about that scream – he had heard it before.
As he ran, aware that it could easily be a trap, Numf had some serious thinking to do.
Why the hell was he still writing in this Tag Team story, when everyone else had buggered off to start a new story elsewhere. Somewhere there was no 33 pages of history to catch up on for newcomers, so was readily more accessible. Where the upper echalons , or even the higher hierarchies, of Legion World were doing the writing. In fact they had almost run away from this story. Shunned it. What were they scared of? That had been quite a big hand grenade, STU. We’re going to bugger off and take our ball with us. And leave you to play by, or even with, yourself. He could try to edge into their exalted company, with a new story line. However, what he couldn’t do is take this story with him. Would that be such a loss? Did anyone still read this drivel anyway? Was he going anywhere in particular, or was he just meandering through the story going absolutely nowhere?
But the big question was – Could anyone, with the possible exception of Rody, actually give a rats ass?
quote:Originally posted by Numf El: Did anyone still read this drivel anyway?
But the big question was – Could anyone, with the possible exception of Rody, actually give a rats ass?
[somewhere in North America, STU is reading through 33 pages of riveting story, whilst appreciating the Wayne Hussey toilet roll cosy he obtained at a fair price from eBay]
Registered: Jul 2003
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posted
I'm reading it Numf, and laughing my ass off ! Don't stop yet!
From: If you don't want my peaches, honey... | Registered: Sep 2003
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STU, Cobie - thanks ever so much for your backing of the story. And the continuation of it. STU, I’m really glad that you’re taking the time to go back and read the whole 33 pages - there’s some good stuff in there.
However, I’ve come to a standstill. My creative juices have been boiled away. Rule 10 has been like a brick wall to me. It’s not that there is no story - it’s that I can’t write fluffy kittens. I don’t do strawberries and cream, good old wholesome moms apple pie. You probably noticed.
Prior to joining up with you guys about September or so, I hadn’t written anything creative (apart from my timesheet, ha, ha, ha) in 22 years or so. Since my English Higher at age 17 or so. How exhilarating this period has been - I didn’t realise how much fun it could be. I was never much good at school . But then, as with art and giving up smoking, I believe that you’ve got to be in the right mood. Doing it because someone tells you to doesn’t work the same.
Now I can’t get past “People want me to stop writing what I‘m writing - people want to stifle me!” And as you can imagine, that’s not a good place to write from. That only brings out anger, and no matter where your argument lies it only ever looks bad from there on in. I’m not being paranoid, and I realise that the finger is not only pointed at me, but I probably swear more per 100 words than anyone else around here.
From a moral point of view, I oppose censorship. On so many levels. But this is not the place to list them all.
I have to go away now, and do some serious thinking.
I may be back, but I don’t know at the moment.
I have to say though, that it’s been an absolute pleasure, one and all. Cobie, Stu, Abin, Harbi, Sonnie, IB especially.
Feel free to use my character to whatever ends you will,
Hyperpath: Email this page to someone!
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! Don't stop yet!
